


Knights and Lovers

by Uthizaar



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Belgrave University, Blackouts, Crushes, Drunken Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Heartache, Hurt/Comfort, Knights of Saint Christopher (The Order TV 2019), Loss, M/M, Magic, Mild Sexual Content, Nudity, Obsession, Responsible Hamish, Season 2, Secret Organizations, Secret Societies, Secrets, Sexual Fantasy, The Order, Undercover, Werewolves, drunk randall, the kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29317965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uthizaar/pseuds/Uthizaar
Summary: They kissed to ensure that no one knew the larger secret, but what if the real secret was the way Randall felt about Hamish? Beyond mere flirting and joking, but actual, deep feelings.Highlights and spoilers for Season Two throughout.
Relationships: Randall Carpio/Hamish Duke
Comments: 23
Kudos: 30





	1. Maintaining Cover

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a new writer in this fandom-written plenty for _Teen Wolf_ and others, but I watched both seasons of The Order last week and became inspired!

"I thought I could do this, Hamish, but this whole Order thing is making me queasy." Randall grimaced and looked over at Hamish, the other man's eyes locking onto his own. They shared a moment of silent understanding before Randall reached over to take a sip of his beer. "Mmh."

"Look, I know, things are a mess right now." Hamish nodded reassuringly as he responded. "But the only way out is through."

"Yeah." Randall muttered slowly, flicking his gaze away from Hamish when he realized he had been staring, about to be caught. "You're right: no guts...no glory."

"Uh, head's up." Hamish said quietly as their two minders arrived behind Randall.

"Look, it's the Hardy Boys!" Selena chuckled as she and Angus stopped next to their table.

"For acolytes who just met, you guys are pretty tight." Angus frowned at them suspiciously.

"Well, it does feel like we've known each other for a while." Hamish replied, looking over at Randall, a smile playing about his handsome features.

"And you can't fight your feelings." Randall nodded, catching on as Hamish tilted his head slightly backwards. He could feel his heart beating faster, his pulse arching higher, their eyes once more locked on each other. 

"Err, you can, but what's the point?" Hamish smirked, all but ignoring Selena and Angus as he gave Randall a look that made his breathing hitch higher.

"Kiss me!" Randall breathed, leaning forward towards Hamish. For a fraction of a second he wasn't sure if Hamish would meet him and follow through on their deception, but that doubt was cast aside as their lips touched together. "Mmh." Randall kept his eyes closed, savoring the moment, even if it was just for show. 

Hamish leaned into him more, his hands holding Randall's face as the other knight pulled him gently into the kiss, their lips soft and warm against the other. The seconds slowed to a sweet eternity, Hamish only withdrawing when Randall's tongue touched against his lips, testing, teasing, desiring entry.

They pulled back slowly, still in each other's grasp, Randall finally opening his eyes to see Hamish staring at him, the expression hard to characterize. He couldn't help but smile though, the rush of heat that had soared through his chest at their contact, rippling out across his fast beating heart and down into his crotch, it ignited a different, more primal fire. Lost in the moment, Randall didn't just break apart from Hamish, instead he flicked his nose upwards against Hamish's own. The affectionate gesture caused the other man to frown slightly, but he still grinned dopily. "Let's get out of here!"

"Mmmh!" Hamish nodded eagerly and turned away to grab his phone as Randall beamed and stood up. 

"Excuse me!" He pushed past Angus and Selena, and their shocked expressions. Randall snuck a hand into his sweatpants and deftly rearranged his hardon before Hamish caught up to him outside the bar, none the wiser to his arousal. 

“Haha!” Hamish chuckled as they walked back to the den. “Did you see their faces?!”

“I think our cover is well and truly intact.” Randall smirked. “Especially if they think we’re-”

“Yeah, well, if that’s what it takes, it buys us a few hours of peace at least.”

“Hmm, yeah.” Randall silently agreed, unable to stop his mind from following through on his interrupted sentence. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d thought about Hamish like that, but he usually kept those feelings and fantasies for his dorm room, not walking across campus with the object of his desire right next to him. He rolled his tongue against his lips, pulling his lower lip into his mouth and feeling that same thrill of pleasure and lust bloom inside his chest as when he had tasted Hamish’s mouth a few minutes before. 

“Jack and Lilith are back, by the way.” Hamish said, looking at his phone. “Seems like they managed to slip their handlers too.”

“Oh, good, the gang’s all together.” 

“Uh huh.” From the quirk of Hamish’s brow, he had heard the muted disappointment in Randall’s voice. “We should use this time to plan.”

“Plan, huh? I guess.” Randall sighed and fell back a little, letting Hamish take the lead as they stepped off the woodland trail that encircled campus and into the tangled brush of the forest. He let his gaze settle naturally onto Hamish’s back and then drift lower across his denim-clad ass, his eyes lingering there. 

It was stupid; he had seen Hamish naked dozens of times, covered in blood and dirt and the detritus of the change and the hunt and the victory. He didn’t need to _imagine_ what Hamish’s smooth, muscular ass looked like! Randall knew it. He had memorized it from that first time they had ever run wild together. And each time since then, he snapped a little bit more of his fellow knight’s glorious, perfect naked form for his mind vault. A treasury of images and memories that he had perverted into lust and desire and wild fantasies of Hamish pinning him against the nearest wall and-

“Randall!” 

“Huh? Oh.” Randall blinked as Hamish released his shoulder and gave him a worried look. “I’m fine.”

“I was talking, and you were lost in a daze.”

“I was…thinking.” He swallowed thickly as Hamish huffed and continued walking, their destination now in sight. “Um, about the, uh, you know, the thing.”

“How informative of you.” Hamish chuckled, slowing his pace enough for him to bump shoulders with Randall. “Maybe you should go inside and sit down, if you’re still feeling unwell?”

“Um, maybe, yeah.” Randall nodded, leaning back into Hamish without thinking, craving any contact between them. He almost wished their Order minders had followed them, so he had an excuse to kiss Hamish again, the consequences be damned! But instead, he just sighed and climbed the wooden steps of the run-down house, leaving Hamish outside to help Lilith unload a crate of bottles. 

Jack was already inside, sitting on the couch and focused on his phone. Randall nodded at him and sat on the other end of the sofa. “Hey, see you managed to get away from Gabrielle for a while!”

“Yeah, she thinks I’m practicing for cheer squad.” Jack replied with a groan. “I’m second alternative, but still get to be the base for the cupie, which Gabrielle _feels_ is sloppy.”

“Ah, hah, yeah,” Randall smirked and shrugged. "I mean, she's not wrong, you could use a little work."

"Hey, my cupie is tight!" Jack objected. 

"Eh." Randall grimaced as he recalled the cheer practice he had walked past the other day in a futile attempt to make contact with Jack. He looked up as Hamish and Lilith came in, each carrying a box of glass bottles, new supplies for Hamish's depleted cocktail bar.

"If I had wanted to act this much, I would have majored in theater!" Lilith declared irritably and sank into an armchair opposite them. 

"Yeah, I've scheduled fake texts every fifteen minutes, so I always have an excuse to get away from Gabrielle." Jack replied with a hint of pride.

"Smart!" Hamish declared, slapping the bar for emphasis. He sighed dramatically, "Randall and I had to kiss each other to get away from our monitors!"

"Heh, yeah," Randall forced a chuckle as Lilith stared at him, wide-eyed, and Jack glanced over at him. "We had to... _had_ to." He nodded and looked down at the floor so Hamish or the others wouldn’t see the hurt in his eyes. Hearing the blatant dismissal of that moment, that Hamish felt it was forced…it was like a sword to the chest. Perhaps they could have played it another way, but Randall would have been waiting for an opportunity to naturally kiss Hamish forever. Oh sure, they flirted and joked and looked at each other a little too long sometimes, but whatever Randall thought it could be, Hamish evidently didn’t see him like that.

“So, a drink before we get to business?” Hamish called out, oblivious to the churning ocean of emotion swamping over Randall’s mind. “Let me get my cocktail shaker…”

“Uh, yeah, sounds good.” Randall nodded hurriedly and stood up, avoiding Lilith’s eyes as she frowned thoughtfully at him. “Can’t plot the downfall of a secret magic society without being a little tipsy, right, guys?!”


	2. In Our Time of Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A somewhat more emotional chapter than I had planned. But I've added on two more chapters and they won't be as sad as this one. There's a happy ending for our knights!

"The word 'hero' is overused, but in this case I'll accept it!" A tinkle of laughter accompanied the statement from the group behind them. It was meant to be funny, meant to be light-hearted, but all Randall heard was the disrespect at their loss. He hunched over the bar, feeling numbness sinking through his body, but at least the shivering had stopped.

"Hey," Hamish whispered to him gently, sitting next to him again, four tumblers and a bottle of tequila close at hand. "Listen, let's get a head start." Hamish slid a glass over to him and poured out a measure.

"No." Randall replied quietly and pushed the glass away.

"Come on." Hamish nudged him encouragingly. "It's tradition. No matter what happens, we salute the fallen."

He didn't reply, feeling his gaze lock onto the illuminated surface of the bar, the edges of his vision beginning to burn. But it would be more difficult to look up, to acknowledge that they had lost a knight, a friend, a loss that no one else was acknowledging.

"Long is the road, short is the life." Hamish whispered again, keeping his voice low as other members of the Order filed past behind them. 

"When she's dead." Randall nodded slowly, still not looking up, even if he was able to see Hamish out of the corner of his eye. "Jack said she was still alive when Rogwan dragged her into Hell."

"Wow," Hamish bit his lip and sniffed. "Actually, Hell is Judeo-Christian propaganda designed for deterrence. You can think of it more as a trans dimensional realm."

"Whatever!" Randall hissed at him, ignoring the attempt at levity taken from their arguments only a day before. He finally looked over at Hamish, no longer able to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. "Until I see Timber's hide in a locker...which isn't going to happen, no salute, no remembrance, nothing."

"Okay." Hamish nodded quietly. "Okay. Until we know." He pushed his own drink away from him and next to Randall's tumbler. “I’m here.”

"Mmh." Randall blinked rapidly, trying to halt the flow of tears and contain his emotions. They were still undercover after all, two supposedly celebrating boyfriends after the defeat of the Emperor demon. They weren't meant to know Lilith all that well, certainly not meant to get so _emotional_ over the...loss of an acolyte. He couldn’t use the word ‘death’, no, Lilith was lost, missing in action, and they’d get her back. They had to. 

Hamish moved closer to him and Randall let his head fall against the other knight's shoulder, burying his face in the smooth fabric of Hamish's borrowed shirt, feeling his biceps clench and release under him. Randall felt his breath catch in his throat when Hamish moved slightly away from him, but the other man reached between them and took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"I'm here."

"Thanks." Randall muttered, his words lost in between a muffled sob. He hugged Hamish with one hand, a half embrace that could have been interpreted as lustful from anyone in the room behind them, and not the desperate need to have someone close to him. He felt as though he would collapse into a thousand pieces at any moment, his breath thundering through his chest, grief making his body shake again.

“What’s with you two?” Gabrielle said as she came over to get a refill. “You’re really bringing down my vibe.”

“Yeah, err, just relieved to be alive, it's emotional, you know?” Hamish answered for them as Randall sniffed and tilted his head, so he was just resting against Hamish’s arm instead of hiding his face. “I wasn’t sure we’d make it out.”

“Ok, whatever, are you going to make me a drink or do I have to do it myself?” She looked at them critically. “Well, isn’t your skill as a bartender why you’re here?”

“Fine.” Hamish replied crisply and stood up after he glanced at Randall. “Tequila sunrise since you’re so chipper?”

“Sounds perfect.” Gabrielle sat into Hamish’s chair and grabbed Randall’s arm when he made to get away. “Why don’t we all have one? It might brighten you guys up!”

“Eh, we weren’t really…”

“It’s fine.” Randall said as Hamish gestured vaguely at him. He wiped his face, his eyes stinging and hot. “Uh, just make it strong, anything to forget what happened.”

“If you’re sure?” Hamish was staring at him, expression pained.

“Yeah, it’s not like…this is different, it’s a cocktail, it’s mixed, it doesn’t count.” Randall nodded his reply as Gabrielle raised a brow questioningly. “Gimme, Hamish.”

“Ok, here.” He finished mixing the drink, adding only a dash of orange juice and twice the normal amount of tequila. “I’ll make yours in a minute, Gabrielle.”

“Thanks.” Randall muttered and accepted the drink. He raised it to his lips and paused, maintaining eye contact with Hamish for a few seconds before shutting his eyes and taking a deep drink. Another pause and then he kept drinking, the alcohol burning a searing path down his throat and spreading like fire across his chest. Only the cool touch of ice against his lips forced him to lower his hand and Randall nodded to himself before he put the empty glass on the bar. “Yeah, good, gimme another.”

“Randall, I-”

“Just give me another, Hamish, I don’t want to remember tonight.” Randall spoke over him, his tone heavy and dull. He vaguely heard Gabrielle say something to him, but he ignored her, focusing instead on the glass as it was refilled. The second drink was gone as quickly as the first, and then another was placed in front of him and another and another. Even if Hamish was watching him with concern, he didn’t say anything, especially as Gabrielle’s friends gathered around the bar, ordering their own drinks and talking loudly. Eventually the present passed into a fractured haze of flashes of images and sounds, his head spinning, vision blacking out, stumbling, hitting against something.

And then strong hands wrapped around his chest, pulling him back into the familiar, powerful grip of Hamish. Even if Randall’s eyes were unfocused and unsure, he knew it was Hamish from the scent of his aftershave, a touch too potent, especially when it mixed with his deodorant. But it was comfortable and pleasant, and Randall melted into his embrace. He could hear Hamish talking to him, but the words were lost in the alcohol haze. 

It was only when they got outside, and the fresh night air pressed against his face that Randall recovered some of his senses. “Mmh, where are we?”

“I taking you back to your dorm.” Hamish muttered, putting one arm around his waist and hoisting Randall’s arm around his shoulder as they half staggered, half walked away from the library. 

“What about…the Order?”

“Easy, everyone thinks we’re together, remember? That cover story is actually coming in handy.” Hamish replied. “C’mon.”

“No, I don’t wanna go back there…” Randall tried to turn away and head towards the den, but Hamish caught up with him almost immediately and steered him the other way. “No, c’mon, Hamish.”

“I don’t want to go there, and we’re trying to keep a low profile, remember?” He sighed and pulled out his phone. “C’mon, we’ll go the apartment, get a taxi, I’m not dragging your drunk ass all the way there.”

“Mmmh, don’t wanna go there either,” Randall pulled away from him and sat on the low wall surrounding the library, staring dejectedly at the ground. “All your stuff is gone.”

“We can use the unit below it; that one hasn’t been let.” Hamish replied and stood next to him, one hand on Randall’s shoulder, less of a comforting gesture and more as though he was ready to grab him if he tried to get up again. “I own the building, remember? It’ll be fine.”

“You know what I like about being drunk?” Randall asked as they stood outside the apartment door, well, as Hamish _stood_ and Randall slouched into the wall, staring dreamily at Hamish. 

“What’s that?”

“Time just like, disappears,” He gave Hamish a lazy grin. “Like, I’m still at the bar and you’re…you’re…here.”

“Uh huh.” Hamish half-smiled at him. “Sure.”

“You’re really hot, you know that?” Randall muttered as he looked at Hamish, beginning to lean forward into his space. “You’ve got, like, these amazing eyes and-”

“Ok, Randall, in we go.” Hamish pushed open the door and guided him inside with alternating prods and shoves as Randall kept trying to get closer to him.

“You know you’re really hot, don’t you?!”

“Yeah, and now I know you’re really drunk.” Hamish smirked. “You get like this every damn time and remember nothing in the morning…which is just as well.” He added quietly. “Here, sit down, I’ll get you some water before we go to bed.”

“Together?” Randall frowned, his brows arching and then furrowing. “Like, you and me? Like naked and touching or…”

“I want to keep an eye on you.” Hamish explained as he ran the tap into a tall glass. “I give it another ten minutes before you pass out completely, last thing I need is for you to…I’m not losing another knight tonight.”

“Hehe, knight tonight!”

“Hilarious.” 

“We can get Lilith back though.” Randall muttered, tilting his head back once he sat on the couch. His vision swam pleasantly, and everything felt warm and fuzzy. Only when Hamish was standing in front of him did Randall bow his head again. “Hey.”

“Yeah, drink up.” 

“Mmh, later.” Randall murmured tiredly as he dragged his eyes from Hamish’s concerned expression down his body and to the subtle bulge in his trousers that was right at eye level. He hummed under his breath, feeling an irresistible urge to reach out and unbuckle his belt, release his own desire, take a familiar fantasy and make it real. 

“Hey,” Hamish whispered softly and knelt down in front of him, so they were looking at each other equally, breaking the train of Randall’s thought. “I know you’re hurting, and I know that you don’t want to remember tonight, but if you do remember anything, it’s that I care about you, and so does Jack, but-”

“Can you sit next to me again, like at the bar?” Randall interrupted him, feeling the sting of their loss fall back over him. “Please, I need you.”

“Of course.” Hamish sat down next to him and wrapped an arm around Randall’s shoulders, pulling him close. “That’s it, come here, close your eyes for a minute.”

“Hmm.” Randall sighed wordlessly and rested his head on Hamish’s shoulder, feeling himself melt into that familiar comforting heat, losing himself in the wash of alcohol and the guy’s aftershave, eyes closed, drifting off, finally safe.


	3. Mutual Wonderings

“Man, I feel a lot better!” Randall exclaimed as he pulled on his old sweatshirt.

“I’m not surprised, you looked terrible in a dress. Those high heels were _not_ flattering.” Hamish sniggered as he leaned on the shelf behind the makeshift bar in the den’s living room. He gestured at Randall and nodded. “But now, you’re, uh, you look a lot better.”

“Glad I have your approval, how Gabrielle wears that thing all day is beyond me.”

“Well, she probably doesn’t have all your…’stuff’ packed in there, so, uh, yeah.”

“My ‘stuff’, huh?” Randall grinned at him. “You noticed?!”

“Bah, I thought you were Mr. Body Positive?” Hamish brushed him off with a halfhearted wave. “And besides, we’ve seen each other naked plenty of times before and after changing into werewolves. I mean, even Jack isn’t squeamish about that part now.”

“Huh, yeah.” Randall shrugged as if it didn’t matter, as if Hamish admitting that he had scoped him out wasn’t the _biggest_ freaking deal ever! He couldn’t help but grin stupidly when he turned around to retrieve his sneakers from under the sofa. Oh sure, Randall had checked out Hamish, all the time in fact, even when they weren’t about to change, but he didn't think it was a mutual thing...

Hamish wearing short sleeves was a rare occurrence, but when it did happen, Randall drank in the bare exposed skin with such greed and lust he was surprised Hamish never called him out on it. And while the fleeting moments between the change were just that: fleeting, it was still the best seven seconds of Randall’s day when it happened. Hamish’s strong muscular body, his lightly tanned skin, the glorious bounce of his bountiful ass cheeks, and then that thick cock hanging against a pair of large balls. Even though it was always soft when Randall had seen it, the thoughts and memories and imagination alone were enough to make his heart thunder in his chest and his dick rock hard in his trousers. 

“Hmm.” He sighed happily and turned back to Hamish, “You know you were lucky, all you had to do was pretend to be Jack…I never realized how leery he can look though.” 

“What?!” Hamish barked at him, brows arching. “I wasn’t leering at you!”

“You kinda were, I mean, I’m not surprised.” Randall smirked playfully. “I was the hottest girl in class after all!”

“That is so weird!” Hamish shook his head. “Please don’t ever say that again!”

“Ok, uh, how about… ‘I’m the hottest _guy_ in class!’ Haha!”

“Um, well,” Hamish paused as Randall stared at him. He chuckled and then shook his head. “I was going to say something about the class I TA for, but then I realized that even grad students shouldn’t be thinking about freshmen that way.”

“Oooh, kinky!” Randall exclaimed and clicked his tongue. “Now you gotta tell me!”

“Not happening.”

“Aww.” He sighed and they lapsed into a comfortable silence; Randall unlocking his phone and catching up on his emails as Hamish set out two tumblers on the counter-top and began rummaging around in the press underneath it. He withdrew a bottle of red wine, gave it a critical inspection and then nodded, placing it on the counter-top. Randall glanced up at him. “Hey, can I see that card the lecturer gave you?”

“Here.”

“Thanks…” Randall hummed to himself, flipping the card over and over in his fingers. “Don’t ya think it’s kinda obvious?”

“What is?” Hamish asked as he reached into the mini fridge where he kept minerals, ice, and vodka. 

“Well, think about it; why would they actively advertise who they are?”

“Huh, I don’t know, it’s very distinct, people will notice.”

“Exactly!” Randall exclaimed loudly. “That’s terrible! It’s like the Illuminati! Or the Templars! Everyone knows what their symbols are; there’s nowhere to hide! We should be thankful the Knights of Saint Christopher don’t have a symbol.”

“We do; it’s called heraldry. The cross in the shield, remember?” Hamish replied calmly, adding the coke to a tumbler with a single cube of ice. “There’s a full-size shield in the…it _was_ in the basement.”

“Huh, we should have kept that somewhere else.” Randall muttered before turning back to Hamish. “Look, all I’m saying is that if you want to be a secret society, don’t slap a logo on everything!”

“Branding matters.” Hamish replied and slid a glass over to him. “Here.”

“What's this?”

“In honor of our adventure this morning, I call it a 'Jekyll and Hyde.'” Hamish raised his own glass and clinked it against Randall’s with a grin.

“Hmm.” Randall lifted the glass to his lips and took a drink, his eyes never leaving Hamish’s face even as he drank. There was something so…precious about the momentary happiness that passed over his expression-always the same in the minutes after creating a new drink-Randall just couldn’t look away, committing the expression to memory. All too soon the moment was over, and he blinked, wetting his lips as Hamish finished taking a sip. “Hamish, that’s fantastic! What’s in it?”

“Wine and coke.”

“Oh!” Randall blinked, unsure if his praise had come across as sarcasm. “It is, uh, you know, it’s different, I like it!”

Later, much later, after the drama with Foley and the revelation of Praxis, when he finally had some time to himself to sit and think and reflect, Randall realized that for all he was concerned about action and finding the truth, he had never been as nervous and afraid as when he thought something had happened to Hamish at the meeting. Nearly thirty minutes had passed between his first warning text to Hamish and the eventual reply. Oh sure, he and Gabrielle had searched the professor’s apartment from top to bottom in the meantime, even had occasion for a snarky conversation about the Order and its misuse of magic. But his thoughts were so wrapped up in Hamish that she even asked him if their fake relationship was real.

When Hamish had replied to let them know Foley had escaped, it had been a relief of course, to know that Hamish was alive, that he was well, that he was safe. But it was also a moment of realization. Ever since Lilith had been trapped in the demon realm, they had been spending more time together, just him and Hamish. Jack was still playing the role of Gabrielle’s boyfriend-at least until his cover was blown wide open-but for long stretches, Randall had Hamish all to himself. Ok, so maybe a lot of that time was lost in alcohol-fueled hazes, but that had played into Randall’s favor most of the time. They’d drink at the campus bar, at the Order’s bar, at the den, but most of all, he’d find himself waking up in Hamish’s apartment building, hung over and unclear on the night before.

Hamish would always claim that he slept on the couch, that it was no big deal. Maybe that was all he was comfortable saying, but Randall knew better. On occasion, he’d wake up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and see Hamish on the other side of the bed, or else he’d wake up early enough to still feel the press of heat into the sheets and duvet that Hamish had left behind. 

They were sleeping together-but not in the way Randall wanted, even if they were clad only in underwear. Sometimes, he wondered if he came on to Hamish when he was drunk, but more often he was left with questions about why. Why did Hamish let him stay over? Why was he comfortable sleeping beside him, but not admitting it? Why did Hamish always seem on the cusp of saying something meaningful when they shared those long gazes? And yet every time he looked as though he was going to speak, something interrupted them. Why was the universe conspiring against them? 

“What do you want to say to me?” Randall muttered aloud with a weary sigh.

“Huh?”

“Ah! I didn’t hear you.” Randall turned around quickly to see Hamish watching him, a playful grin pulling at his lips. “You been there long?”

“Not really, wondering if you wanted a drink?” Hamish shrugged. “We should go to the temple, make an appearance, even with everything that’s happened.”

“I thought Jack was talking to Vera about an alliance?”

“He is,” Hamish nodded. “Considering what he went through, I think he’s in a better place to negotiate. But that doesn’t mean we can’t sit in their common room and drink, right?”

“I guess,” Randall stood up, patting his pockets out of habit, checking for his phone, wallet, and keys. “But I thought you didn’t like drinking there: something about having to pretend to be my boyfriend? I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“It’s not uncomfortable.” Hamish’s lips twitched and he placed an arm around Randall’s shoulders as they walked together towards the door. “Besides, they have a really well stocked bar.”

“Ah, the real reason emerges!” Randall chuckled, not pulling away from Hamish even as they stepped outside. “Sounds like a plan.”


	4. Old Times’ Sake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is mild sexual content in this chapter.

The taste of the alcohol was bitter and sharp against his tongue before it eased and became fire snaking down the inside of his torso to explode in his stomach. “Hah!” Randall slammed the shot glass down on the table and gestured at those surrounding him. “Again!” As he waited for the glass to be refilled, he took a moment to look around the den. For the first time since he could remember, the house was full of people; frat bros and jocks, sorority girls and familiar faces from the resident block he was RA for, and even more people he didn’t know but who had heard of the party and just came. It didn’t matter though, even in the middle of the party, surrounded by all these people, Randall still felt alone.

They had still lost. Not just Lilith or their stuff, but everything else as well. Their independence was gone, sure, it had been tenuous for a long time, crumbling even, when Jack joined them last year. But now…Vera was taking their liberty and giving them nothing but a short leash. And if that was the worst of it, Randall might have been able to deal, and not throw himself into an alcohol-blackened pit. No, it was the fact that both Jack and Hamish were fine signing away their identities, their freedoms, their very reason to be!

He had expected Jack to fight back: after all, it was his reckless plan that had led to their stuff getting stolen again and to Lilith’s loss in the demon realm. But perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, the newest knight among them had always seemed to be in two minds about joining their cause, about really committing to their ideals. And besides, Jack’s acceptance of the terms wasn’t what hurt. It was the way that Hamish just seemed to _want_ to be part of the Order, to harness their magic, learn their knowledge. Things between them were tense, even more so than before when Randall thought that there was some…potential romantic relationship between them.

He was jealous, he knew that, and wore that jealousy on his sleeve. Randall tried to keep the hurt from his expressions, his words, even his thoughts, but from the sympathetic look Jack always gave him and the careful frown that creased Hamish’s brows whenever he talked about Vera, his attempts at subtlety failed. 

Hamish and Vera. 

The thought of them together…beyond the wrongness of a knight and a witch…no, that wasn’t even it. The werewolf inside didn’t seem to care about _that_ sort of thing, so it was just Randall himself. 

Jealous. 

Envious. 

_Lustful._

Too many times of late he found himself drifting back to images and memories and imaginings of Hamish’s body and face and cock. Of his glorious ass penetrated by Randall’s fat cock, of the rapturous expression on Hamish’s face when Randall came on his chest, of the look in Hamish’s eyes as he swallowed Randall’s cock to the hilt. Yes, all those elaborate sex scenes flashing through his mind as he jerked off on his bed, eyes closed and letting his thoughts run wild and free and utterly without restraint.

Sometimes Randall wondered if Hamish thought about him that way too, but most of the time, he just worried about whether Hamish knew that his attraction was beyond some schoolboy fancy and had become all consuming. A necessity beyond mere lust and desire. He _needed_ to have Hamish. 

But what Hamish thought about him didn’t seem to matter as much anymore, now that they weren’t the Knights of Saint Christopher, but rather just an arm of the Order, the supernatural fist of internal policing. _Magic internal affairs cops, heh._ And the greater loss, of course; Hamish would likely spend more and more of his time with Vera, away from Randall and any opportunities for that tension between them to be released in physical rapture. 

Randall staggered outside, clutching a novelty beer stein in the shape of a boot. His vision swam pleasantly and the sounds of the party inside were a satisfying comfort against his ears. The night air was dewy and cool when it kissed the flushed skin of his face and neck. Randall closed his eyes as he leaned on the railing by the decking, tipping the stein into his mouth, waiting a long few seconds for the beer to reach his lips. The future might suck but…he still had his memories, his precious memories and the promise that they held. Potential that could be spun into new memories, new thoughts, fantasies and dreams and alternative realities that did _not_ include the Grand Magus stealing his lover…

The signing that afternoon-just before they decided to throw one last hurrah for the Knights-when they marked their accord with bloody fingerprints on the treaty… The moment had lingered with him all day, that fraction of a second when his finger had been pressed together with Hamish’s own. They could have taken turns, waiting for one to sign and then went after each other. But no, Jack signed his print and then Randall, the pad of his bloody digit barely touching the paper before Hamish was in there with him.

That moment of contact was like an electric charge roiling through his chest and earthing itself in his heart. And afterwards, as they looked up and matched gazes, there was _something_ there, some unspoken desire perhaps, or maybe just words left unsaid. If Jack hadn’t been there, maybe Randall would have said something. When he played the memory back again in his mind’s eye, he _was_ saying something, confessing his feelings, and Hamish was accepting him, tugging him closer, their lips crushing together again, beer pong cups spilling onto the ground as they mounted the table and…

Randall blinked and turned away from the house, facing the dark garden beyond them where a number of cars and trucks were parked, easy cover for his tenting cock. He sighed, feeling the loss again, another electric thrill sparking through his rib cage but this time it just made him queasy. Randall grimaced and took another deep swig of beer, trying to bury his thoughts and emotions and go back to that momentary buzz of contentment he had felt a few minutes before, lost in his memories.

Later, after his drunken revelation to Nichole, Randall sighed and stumbled down the steps, some half-baked plan of going after her and explaining himself again was scuttled when he collided heavily with Hamish going the other way. “Ugh!”

“Hey, steady.” Hamish grabbed his arm and held him back a little, peering at Randall’s face. “You’re more drunk than usual.”

“I’m in the happy phase of being drunk, the time passing by easily stage, heh. The I don’t give a fuck what’s happening stage!” Randall smiled at him and gestured with his nearly empty boot. “Where are you heading in such a hurry anyway? _Vera?_ ”

“Err, yeah, actually.” Hamish replied slowly, grimacing when Randall’s expression soured. “Duty calls, you know?”

“Does it? Of course, it does with her.” He snapped and pulled his arm free. “What happened to tonight being for the Knights? For us?”

“Jack’s been bouncing on the castle since it arrived, you’ve been drinking since noon, and oh, yeah, I’ve been doing the same, with neither of us talking.” Hamish reached for him again and this time Randall didn’t pull away. “I didn’t think you’d care at this point if I just ducked out.”

“Of course I care! I care so fucking much it hurts!” Randall shouted at him, his emotions bubbling over. “The only thing I care about is you! The Order, the Knights, the magic, the werewolves, it can all go fucking burn! I just want us to be together like we used to be! I just want…I just want you!”

“Ah.” Hamish went silent for a few seconds, staring at the ground as Randall felt his cheeks burn and his gaze become heavy. “I know, I’ve known that for a while.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything?”

“Do you want to go for a run?” Hamish changed the subject abruptly. “Once more for old times’ sake? Through the forest, out by the river, remote and rough. And it’s dark so…no one should see us.”

“What about Vera?” Randall replied, tilting the stein upwards to get the last dregs of the beer from the toe of the boot. He blinked in surprise when Hamish pulled the stein from his hands and tossed it to one side, the beer spilling onto the ground. “Hey, I was drinking that…”

“I’ll just tell the Grand Magus I’m busy, that there’s someone more important who needs me.” 

“More important, huh?”

“Always.” Hamish replied firmly, holding Randall’s intense gaze. 

They left their clothes at the edge of the party, no one noticing as the duo slipped into their true form and loped into the woods. Even after years of being Greybeard’s champion, Randall still felt the strangeness of the transformation into the werewolf, the sensation of his mind being pushed back into the rest of his body and a more primal, ancient consciousness taking priority. Even while in human form, he never really communicated with the knight the way that Hamish or Lilith said they did with Tundra or Timber. Instead, it felt more like he was in first person spectator mode like in a video game, the perspective never quite reacting the way he expected, moving slightly too fast or slow. He felt even more disconnected when he was drunk, probably why all of them drank so much in the first place: to maintain the distance between the hide and the person. 

In the blink of an eye, Randall went from drifting along with Greybeard to being face first in the dirt, the feel of cool soil on his hands and knees, loose brush blowing around him in the light wind. He shook his head to clear his vision, the transformation back to human taking much of his drunkenness with it. The sound of water rushing over rocks nearby made Randall stand up and take account of his surroundings. The night had been clear so far, only a few clouds to obstruct the moon and the stars in their deep, velvet ocean.

The world around him was cast in that perfect shading of grey that highlighted all the details that were normally missed in the brightness of daylight. He looked around for Hamish, finding him a moment later standing on the bank of the river, leaning against a tree. Hamish had returned to his human form, his magnificent human form…the moonlight gleaming along the naked skin of his shoulders and arms, grey light swooping down to pool among the clenching and relaxing muscles of his lower back and onto the thick, sloping smoothness of his bare buttocks. 

Randall swiped his tongue over dry lips and approached Hamish, aware that he too was naked. How many times had they done this after a run? Simply transformed back and enjoyed the moment as heightened senses faded and their hearts returned from frenetic beating. Of course, on those occasions, Randall and Hamish had been with the others, casual nudity was just a part of being a knight. This time though, he noticed how Hamish’s eyes rolled obviously down his chest and over his tightening stomach-Randall making his abs more defined-and down into his crotch, the gaze finally arriving and lingering on his thick cock.

The attention was unexpected, though welcome, and he could feel himself beginning to harden. Randall made to turn away, but Hamish reached for him, taking his hand with a soft grip. As Hamish turned towards him, Randall’s brows arched, seeing the other man’s erection standing upright and unashamed. “I guess you see something you like?”

“You know how it is,” Hamish stepped closer to him, near enough that Randall could feel the heat rising from his body and pressing against his own. “When it feels right, it’s right.”

“Hmm, what about-”

“Shush.” Hamish interrupted him gently and leaned in, kissing him. 

“Mmh.” This time, without the watching audience, Randall could feel Hamish’s tongue pressing against his lips. He parted his lips and reached for Hamish’s arms, pulling him closer, running his hands up and down Hamish’s biceps and shoulders. The electric thrum as their tongues touched and slipped over each other was enough to make Randall jolt and push himself flush against Hamish’s body, trapping their pleasure between them. “Mmh, yes!”

“Haha,” Hamish chuckled quietly when they pulled back after a few minutes. “Let’s get out of here!”

“Hey, that’s my line!”

Dawn’s rays filtered in through a gap in the curtains and fell across the end of Hamish’s bed, heralding the arrival of a new day. A day where the Knights of Saint Christopher were no more. And yet, that did not fill Randall with the dread he had expected. Not while he lay contentedly in the arms of his lover; Hamish sleeping behind him, naked and warm together. The night before had been everything he wanted, or at least, what he thought he wanted, but it was as he lay safe and secure and snug with Hamish’s strong arms around him, one hand on his stomach, the other on his chest…now, at last, Randall finally had everything he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s the end of this story, I hope you enjoyed it! I certainly enjoyed writing it and I’m fairly certain I’ll come back to this fandom again. I do have an idea for a “season three” style story that would wrap up the hanging plot points from the season two finale-that would be Randall/Hamish too, so some significant differences, but I think it would be fun. Anyway, thanks for reading!


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